Then the acute realization was forced in upon him that he had the
general manager of the line to face. The captain had not caught sight
of his superior during the excitement; he wondered now why Mr. Fogg had
effaced himself so carefully.
The red coal of a cigar glowed in a corner of the pilothouse. From that
corner came curt inquiry: "Well, Captain Mayo, what have you got to say
about this?"
"I think I'll do my talking after I have had daylight on the
proposition, sir."
"Don't you have any idea how you happened to be off your course so far?"
asked Fogg, his anxiety noticeable in his tones.
"How do you know I was off my course?"
"Well--er--why, well, you wouldn't be aground, would you, if you hadn't
lost your way?"
"I didn't lose my way, Mr. Fogg."
"What did happen, then?"
"That's for me to find out."
"I'm not going to say anything to you yet, Captain Mayo. It's too
sudden--too big a blow. It's going to paralyze the Vose line." Mr. Fogg
said this briskly, as if he were passing small talk on the weather.
"I'm thankful that you're taking the thing so calmly, sir. I've been
dreading to meet you."
"Oh--a business man in these days can't allow himself to fly to pieces
over setbacks. Optimism is half the battle."
But Mayo, sitting there in that dark pilot-house for the rest of the
night, staring out into the blank wall of the fog and surveying the
wreck of his hopes, was decidedly not optimistic.